


freedom from tomorrow

by SydneyHorses



Series: Shackled to their Dead [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyHorses/pseuds/SydneyHorses
Summary: Five years after she declared war on the Church of Seiros, Edelgard and the Black Eagle Strike Force reside in their headquarters in Enbarr. When a familiar face unexpectedly makes an appearance at the palace, plans and loyalties shift as Edelgard questions just how far she's willing to go to secure her future.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Shackled to their Dead [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738789
Comments: 21
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this is the flipside to my sylvix fic set in this same universe! it's absolutely not required to read that fic to read this one, but if you're at all interested Shackled to Their Dead is the first part of this series and follows what's happening in the Blue Lions during all of this! Some of the stuff there may be referenced here and vice versa, but they're both stand alone fics.
> 
> i hope you enjoy :)

The war has been raging on for five long years. Edelgard has grown used to the routine, the almost near monotony, that comes with fighting the same battle day in and day out. After all, she’s been preparing for this war since she was a girl. Still, there are of course hiccups in her schedule.

There’s today, for one. Their war council was supposed to start almost an hour ago, but Ferdinand is late returning back to Enbarr. He was meant to arrive back at the Imperial Palace this morning, but it’s now late afternoon, and the rest of them are growing worried.

“Another ten minutes,” Edelgard says firmly. “And then we’ll begin without him. If something did happen, we’ll need to be prepared.”

Ten minutes tick by, and the seven of them sit in an uncomfortable silence, growing closer every instant to accepting that Ferdinand may never return. Edelgard sighs and straightens the pile of paperwork in front of her. “Very well. I suppose that-”

She’s cut off by Ferdinand bursting through the doors. “Edelgard!” He sounds… excited? That can’t be right.

Edelgard turns towards the door to check on Ferdinand, and forgets what it is to breathe. Standing at his side, a dream made flesh and blood, is Byleth. Edelgard has changed in the last five years, but Professor Byleth looks the exact same. Bernadetta did a sketch of her, in the weeks while they were on the road after Edelgard started the war. It was a remarkable likeness, and Edelgard’s sure that if she went and found it, the Professor would look exactly the same.

“Professor?” She says, before she can think it through, and rises to her feet.

Byleth nods slowly, and the silence is broken. The rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force spring to their feet and rush over to her, immediately fussing over her and bombarding her with questions. The professor answers them all, but she meets Edelgard’s gaze over Dorothea’s shoulder, and Edelgard swallows. There are no words to be said. At the very least, none that she knows how to say.

“Lady Edelgard.” Hubert touches a hand gently to her elbow. 

Edelgard flinches, but doesn’t reply, still lost in thought. Besides, she already knows that Hubert is having the same thought as her. How do they know that this is truly the Professor, and not one of Those Who Slither in the Dark in a disguise?

The truth is, they don’t know. Lord Arundel barely tells her anything, even now that she’s the Emperor and in charge of the war effort. Some nights she dreams of killing him and the way it will feel once his head is at her feet.

“Professor,” Hubert says, once it becomes clear that Edelgard isn’t going to say anything. His voice is clear and cool, and cuts through the noise of the others at once. “Could I speak with you in private? There are some… details, we should sort out, now that you’re back with us.”

The Professor nods, tearing her gaze away from Edelgard and following Hubert out of the war council without another word. Edelgard sits back down in her chair, lacing her fingers together.

“Edie?” Dorothea walks over and sets a hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

Edelgard sighs, resting her chin on her hands. “I thought she was dead.”

“We all did,” Dorothea says. She squeezes Edelgard’s shoulder.

Ferdinand drums his fingers on the table. “I apologize if I should not have-”

“No,” Edelgard says. “No. I’m happy you brought her back, truly. Words cannot express how pleased I am to know that she still lives. It’s simply…” she trails off, looking towards the door Hubert and Byleth exited out of.

“We weren’t her students,” Dorothea finishes.

Edelgard nods. “She’s going to want to contact the Kingdom Army.”

“We should be allowing her to do so,” Petra says. “She is not a prisoner.” She says it with a finality that speaks to her royalty and power, and Edelgard finds herself nodding along almost without thinking.

“No, prisoner is not the right word,” she agrees. “I will… think it through this evening. I’m sure Hubert will want to talk through the situation.”

-

“Well?”

Hubert closes the door to Edelgard’s office behind him and walks over to the cart of drinks in the corner. He pours himself a glass of wine, then sits down across from her. He swirls his drink then takes a sip, looking off to the side.

For the first time in months, Edelgard marvels at just how tired her best friend looks. There are dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slump in a way that betrays his exhaustion.

Hubert sighs. “It’s her. I’m positive.”

Then that is that. The professor is alive, and they’ve managed to stumble across her before what’s left of the Blue Lions.

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose, a gesture she picked up from Hubert ages ago and hasn’t been able to shake. “What are we going to do?”

Hubert takes another sip of his wine. “The simplest solution would be to kill her.”

Something within Edelgard shatters a little at the suggestion. She’s capable of making the order, but she wishes she wasn’t. “The others have already seen her,” she replies with a frown.

Hubert taps his fingernail against his glass. “Yes, they have. It’s most unfortunate. They would react poorly to her removal.”

“Yes,” Edelgard agrees. “they would.” She stands and walks to her windows, lacing her hands behind her back. “I must confess, I’m not sure what we should do with her. We cannot let her leave and join the Kingdom Army. She’s much too brilliant a tactician for that.” She turns from the window, pacing back and forth in front of it. “But then again, I have no desire to keep her as a prisoner.”

“She said she wanted to speak with you,” Hubert says dryly from his seat.

Edelgard stops, looking at him. “She did?” It’s ridiculous, this feeling. As if she’s still that seventeen year old, desperate for Byleth’s attention and furiously jealous of Dimitri for getting it.

“I couldn’t allow her to speak with you alone,” Hubert says. “We must assume she is still an enemy.”

“If you were there, then,” Edelgard says. “She would be outnumbered, and if she were to try anything, you could warp us both to safety. I’m not comfortable having anyone but you present.”

Hubert sets his drink down on her desk. “Lady Edelgard, I must urge you not to let personal feelings complicate this matter further.”

“I am your Emperor,” she replies tersely. “What if I were to order you to follow my wishes?”

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert says. She can sense the lecture brewing, so she waves a hand and turns back to the windows.

“Yes, I know.” She touches her hand to the glass. “All the same, I think it would be wise to let her speak her mind. Who knows? We may be able to sway her to our cause yet.”

-

“Edelgard.” Byleth’s voice is soft and cool, and Edelgard feels herself relaxing in spite of how firmly she told Hubert she would keep her guard up.

She laces her fingers together and rests them on her desk. “Professor.” There’s a tray of tea set out on the desk, and Hubert carefully pours Edelgard a cup of tea and sets it in front of her. If the professor notices the slight barb, it doesn’t show.

Byleth looks out of place in the palace. The look in her eye never entirely stopped being that of a mercenary, and it’s more obvious here. She’s meant for battle, not for the poise and politics that this place requires. Byleth sighs and sits down across from Edelgard, taking the proffered cup of tea off of the tray and stirring it. The trace of a smile crosses her face. “It’s like at the academy, when we used to get tea together.”

Edelgard’s spine stiffens. “We’re not at the academy anymore. Such things hold no consequence.”

Byleth takes a sip of her tea. “If you say so.”

She can feel Hubert frowning from his position just behind her chair. They’ve barely said anything, and yet she already wants to reach out a hand and reassure the professor that everything will be alright. “We need to discuss your continued presence in Enbarr during the war,” she says, forging ahead. “I understand that you likely wish to return to your former students, but you must understand that that is not something that I can let you do in good conscience.”

“Then I am a prisoner,” Byleth replies. Her expression hasn’t changed.

“No,” Edelgard says. “No. I… I cannot bring myself to do that.”

“Regardless of our personal feelings,” Hubert interjects, “the fact of the matter is that the former Black Eagles would not agree with the decision to keep you a prisoner. We value their continued loyalty, so that is not an option.”

At least Hubert seems to be able to keep a straight head around the professor. Goodness, what sort of Emperor is she if she can’t even control her emotions? “Exactly,” Edelgard says firmly. “That being said, what is it you want to do?”

Byleth sets her teacup down on the desk and places her hands in her lap. One of the professor’s most distressing habits in Edelgard’s mind is her inability to fidget. She’s either in the midst of an action or completely still, and it unnerves her every time. “Why did you start the war?”

Edelgard has gone over many versions of this conversations in her head, but none of them had included Byleth having any desire to actually know what she’s fighting for. She pushes one of the tendrils of her hair over her shoulder. “I must admit, I do not quite know where to start.”

“Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s voice, low and careful, warns her against childish fantasies.

She shakes her head. “I believe that humanity deserves a better fate than that which the Church of Seiros has subjected them to. You saw The Immaculate One - she’s a monster, preying on the weakness of others in order to advance herself. Crests have long led to the subjugation of the masses, and I believe that we can free the citizens of Fodlan from such a fate.” She smiles, tight-lipped and reserved. “That is an abridged version. If you truly desire to know more, I’ll have Hubert send a copy of my manifesto to your quarters.”

“I see,” Byleth says. “How are my students?”

Edelgard glances at Hubert over her shoulder. He shakes his head, but she’s already made up her mind. She is many things, but she is not a liar, and she does not wish any suffering to befall the Professor save for that which is necessary for the future. “Dedue is dead,” she says. “He was killed rescuing Dimitri. The rest are alive, to the best of my knowledge.” Her mind flits, unbidden, to the first letter she’d received from Sylvain, years ago. She should write him again, regardless of what the Professor says. Perhaps he’ll have some idea of what she plans to do.

Byleth’s shoulders slump slightly, the most expressive she’s been through this entire conversation. “I see. Dedue… that’s a shame. I wonder how the rest of them are holding up.” She looks up and over Edelgard’s shoulder, gazing out the window. For a moment, there’s a terrible sort of longing in her gaze, one that makes Edelgard feel unloved and alone.

Edelgard swallows. “I’m afraid we don’t know where all of them are at the moment.”

Byleth’s attention snaps back to her. “They’re at the monastery.”

Perhaps Byleth isn’t feeling quite well after all. Edelgard’s mouth thins. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. The monastery has been abandoned for years.”

Byleth shakes her head, serene in her confidence. “We made an oath. Five years to the day…” she trails off, a faraway expression on her face once more.

Hubert bends down to her level. “Lady Edelgard,” he says quietly. “I can have my sources look into her claim.”

“Yes, please do.” Edelgard frowns. “My teacher, I must admit that I am at a loss. I have no desire to keep you here as my prisoner, but I fear for the ramifications if I were to aid you in travelling back to join the Blue Lions.”

“Let me write to them,” Byleth says, an undercurrent of emotion cutting through her voice. “I’ll tell them that I’m alive, and that I am not yet able to return to them.”

Edelgard purses her lips. “I… suppose that wouldn’t be out of the question.”

Byleth nods and stands without another word, turning and walking out of the room. Edelgard watches her go, something in her chest tightening with an unidentifiable emotion. She brushes it aside: she has no time for such frivolous things.

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert begins.

“I know,” Edeglard sighs. “I’m well aware. What do you think I should do?”

Hubert walks around her desk and sits in the chair Byleth had just occupied. “It would be simpler if we had her killed.”

Edelgard shakes her head. “Go tell all of the others then. You don’t want to let them down any more than I do.”

Hubert grimaces. “They have become something of a… weakness of ours.”

They have, and yet Edelgard cannot imagine treading this path without them. She was alone for so long, and now that she’s found a new kind of family, she is not eager to give it up. “That’s one way to put it,” she says lightly, turning her teacup so that the handle faces to the left. Her eldest sister had been left handed, and is the only person to ever bring her tea facing the correct way. Even Hubert still forgets from time to time. “I think we should discuss this matter with the rest of them at the next war council.”

-

“You’re not serious about killing her, are you Hubie?” Dorothea’s voice is tinged by sadness, as it often is these days, but there’s an edge of incredulity to it that makes Edelgard smile. She can’t imagine getting away with ‘Hubie’ as a nickname, and still doesn’t understand how Dorothea does.

Hubert straightens in his seat at her right. “It would be the most elegant solution.”

“Would it?” Ferdinand says, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Or would it simply be the most convenient one for you?”

As much as she appreciates Ferdinand’s newfound maturity, Edelgard sometimes wishes he were a little less clever. It would make her life easier, is all.

Hubert frowns. “Regardless, Lady Edelgard has forbidden me from having the Professor discreetly taken care of.”

“At least one of you has some sense,” Linhardt says dryly from his seat. Edelgard hadn’t even known he was awake.

“What do you think we should do?” She asks him, lacing her fingers together and resting them on the table.

Linhardt sighs as if she’s an idiot of the most monumental kind. “If anyone will be able to talk some sense into any of them, it’s her.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Edelgard interjects. “However, to do so we’ll have to share some rather personal information with her. I doubt she will have any interest in only hearing part of the story.”

“I mean,” Bernadetta stammers. “we only know part of the story. And we’re still here, you know. Not that I think we’re better than the Professor! Sorry!" She pushes her chair back, standing. "I can just go!”

“Bernadetta,” Edelgard says, some of her exasperation creeping into her voice. “Please sit back down. As we’ve gone over, we all want you at war councils.”

Bernadetta nods, eyes wide, and sits back in her chair with minimal trembling. 

“That’s a fair point, however,” Edelgard admits. “I… have kept some details about the personal nature of our cause secret from you.” She touches a hand to her hair and ignores Hubert’s whispered ‘Lady Edelgard.’

“I once had ten siblings,” she says. The words do not feel quite as much like they’re strangling her as they used to, but they’re still too heavy. Every day she grows older than any of them will ever be. “Eight older, and two younger. I’m sure most of you know this already, but you do not know the circumstances of their deaths.” Her voice isn’t shaking, and that is in and of itself a small victory. Hubert takes her hand under the table, and Edelgard squeezes it for dear life.

“They died of the same sickness that afflicted the Kingdom,” Ferdinand says. “That’s what my father always said.”

Ferdinand was a boy, and he is still unlearning the things his father has told him. Edelgard knows this, but she can’t help but tighten her grip on Hubert’s hand. His hand is going to ache later, but Hubert has always shouldered her burdens without complaint. 

“That was a lie,” Edelgard says. She doesn’t cry, and her voice doesn’t tremble, but she doubts that Hubert has any feeling left in his hand. She looks up, taking in her friends’ faces. They all look varying levels of shocked or horrified, although there is a shrewdness to Linhardt’s gaze that she doesn’t necessarily appreciate. “You must swear not to repeat this to a soul.”

All of them mutter their assent without a pause. Edelgard sighs. “You’re aware that I have two crests. But what you’re not aware of is the cost at which my second crest came. Our enemies tortured countless innocents in order to make one of us the perfect weapon, but all my siblings perished from the experiments that were conducted. They died afraid and in the dark, never to see the light of day again. All of them that is, save me.”

“Edie…” Dorothea is the first to speak, and her voice is soft and tender. Her eyes brim with unshed tears, and something within Edelgard rebels violently at the notion that one of her friends is going to cry for her. “Edie, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That’s awful.” Dorothea stands and walks over to her, leaning down and wrapping both her arms around Edelgard. She squeezes her tight, and Edelgard gives into temptation for a moment and buries her face in the crook of Dorothea’s neck, gently holding her with her free hand.

“Edelgard…” Bernadetta walks over, her hands trembling. “You really are the strongest person I know.”

Edelgard smiles and draws back from Dorothea’s embrace. She releases her hold on Hubert’s hand and stands as the other five of her friends come up to her, muttering their apologies and condolences and thanking her for her trust.

“You must let me study your crests sometime,” Linhardt says, sounding bored. “I’m sure there’s untold advances lurking within your blood. We may as well try to turn your suffering to our advantage.” Coming from Linhardt, that’s almost tender.

At his side, Caspar nods. “Yeah! Maybe we can turn them into something good!”

“The things that this country has done to you are horrific,” Ferdinand interjects, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. “Something in Enbarr is truly rotten, if such a thing were able to happen. I swear to you, that I will do everything within my abilities to aid you in your goals.”

“We are not having crests in Brigid,” Petra says. “But we do know that no power is worth such sacrifice.”

“I will make a better Fodlan,” Edelgard says. “One without the need for crests. One where success is based on merit, nothing more.” She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “I have to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt makes a promise. Edelgard has a heart to heart with the Professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little on the short side, sorry! but the next one should be pretty long, so hopefully that will make up for it :) hope you enjoy!

The morning after her confession, Edelgard awakes early in the morning to a knock at her door. She stands and dons her dressing gown, then walks over. “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Linhardt answers, his voice still tinged by sleep.

Edelgard cannot remember the last time that Linhardt came to call on her privately. She ties her robe shut, then opens the door. “Linhardt? Is everything quite all right?”

He nods and breezes past her, sitting in one of her armchairs and leafing through the book she’d left out from the night before. “I can recommend you a more advanced text on this topic,” he says finally. “This one is rather rudimentary. I trust you’re smart enough to puzzle out the basics.”

Edelgard closes the door, “Of course.”

Linhardt continues looking through her reading material, and doesn’t say a single thing.

“Linhardt?” She says, arching an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

Edelgard sets her jaw, “It’s very early. I must ask what reason you have for disturbing me.”

Linhardt closes the book with a snap. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot. It’s about your crests.”

She should have known. After all, Linhardt's restraint on the matter yesterday had been almost polite. "I see."

Linhardt sighs, "I'd suspected for some time, of course, but I appreciate your honesty. It speaks wonders to your trust in us."

Why is it that even when he’s attempting to be polite, Linhardt still sounds like he’s judging her? It’s almost impressive. She doesn’t reply, taking a seat across from Linhardt and ringing the staff’s bell for tea to be sent up.

Linhardt leans forward. “What crest is it? You didn’t say.”

Edelgard sighs. “The Crest of Flames.”

Linhardt nods. “The same as our dear Professor.” He frowns. “I don’t suppose she’d be willing to give me some of her blood as well. Comparing samples from the two of you would be most interesting, as much as I dislike blood.”

Edelgard crosses her arms. “I never said I would give you some of my blood.”

“Oh but you must,” Linhardt says. “After all, if your crests are anything like Lysithea’s, you don’t have very long left to live, do you?”

Edelgard’s spine stiffens, her shoulders going rigid. “I do not think my situation is quite so dire,” she says tightly. “However, I would appreciate it if you refrained from repeating that to anyone else.”

“Of course,” Linhardt says. “Just have some of your blood sent to me, and all will be forgotten.” He sighs. “I can make no guarantees, of course, but I started looking into how to remove a secondary crest years ago. That research has lied abandoned, but I could pick it up again.”

Out of all of them, Linhardt might be able to annoy her the most effectively. “I see,” Edelgard says. “That would be… appreciated.”

Linhardt yawns. “Well, I’m going to bed. We can speak more about this later.” He stands and leaves without so much as a goodbye, leaving Edelgard alone in her room.

-

Edelgard sends forces to attack Garreg Mach. She doesn’t tell the Professor. She would not have stayed her hand for Byleth, but her aim would have trembled. Hubert comes by her office after she sends out the orders and tells her she’s doing the right thing, which soothes her nerves somewhat. As much as Hubert’s moral compass is slightly skewed, she trusts him more than she will ever trust another. No one else has stood by her as faithfully.

Their forces are defeated, and badly at that. Randolph does not return home, and Edelgard and Ladislava sit by themselves and down their feelings over a bottle of wine. Fleche does not return either, which is almost more tragic. She was just a child. Edelgard hadn’t even realized she’d left with her brother. The next day, she sees Byleth in the hall, walking with Dorothea and talking quietly. She stops when she sees Edelgard.

“Dorothea, Professor.” Edelgard says.

Byleth’s expression is clear, without any emotion at all. “I heard about General Randolph. I am sorry for your loss.”

Dorothea clasps her hands together. “I’ve known him for five years. He was always such a kind man. It’s so sad… any of us could be next.”

Edelgard’s heart aches, but must not appear weak. “It’s a tragedy, but these things happen in war. We must remain focused.” She inclines her head slightly. “Even so, I will miss him. He was a good man.”

Dorothea nods. Byleth rests a hand on her shoulder, almost mechanically, but her mint green eyes stay fixed on Edelgard.

Edelgard swallows. “If you’ll excuse me.” She turns and walks off, the click of her boots echoing on the tile floor of the palace.

-

Two days later, her meeting with Hubert about their post-war plans is interrupted by a knock at the door. He frowns, but opens the door, revealing Byleth. She looks, as always, smaller in person than Edelgard expects. In her mind the Professor looms ten feet tall.

“Hubert, Ferdinand was looking for you,” Byleth says. “Something about a shipment arriving?”

Hubert frowns, then turns and bows to Edelgard. “We can finish this matter at a later time.”

“Of course,” Edelgard murmurs. Hubert sweeps off in a rush, his cloak swirling around him. She’ll have to ask him about that later, but for now, there’s the matter of the Professor before her.

“If you have a moment, would you be willing to join me for tea in the gardens?”

Edelgard has paperwork she should approve, and battle plans to draw up, but she has always been loathe to refuse an invitation from the professor. She hesitates, and that’s when she knows that she’s already made up her mind. She presses her lips into a thin line so as to contain her small smile.

“I suppose I have a few minutes to spare,” she says, straightening the files on her desk to avoid looking at Byleth.

“Excellent,” Byleth says. “Shall we?”

Edelgard sighs. She’s trying to sound exasperated, but is ending up more on the edge of sounding fond. “We shall,” she says, and follows Byleth into the garden.

If there is one thing about the palace in Enbarr Edelgard has always loved, it’s the rose garden. As a young girl, she’d chase her siblings through the flowers, muddying her hem and getting a truly undue amount of lectures as a result. Hubert would trail after her, finding the best hiding places under tables and squeezed between the decorative hedges.

Such things are no longer befitting of someone of her status.

Even so, when Edelgard steps out into the sunlight and sees the vibrant green of the rosebushes, she can’t help but smile. Byleth leads her around a corner, to a table that’s already been set up for tea. There’s a tray of sweets set out, and a beautiful white teapot with steam rising from the spout. Byleth steps in front of her, pulling the chair out for Edelgard to sit.

Edelgard opens and closes her mouth, her cheeks flushed with a dusting of pink. “My teacher,” she says, her voice injected with all the warmth she’s been afraid to show. “I… this is very kind.” And it is kind, truly. Most of the time when Edelgard has tea, it doubles as a political meeting. She hasn’t had something like this since her time at the monastery.

A small smile graces Byleth’s face, one that Edelgard returns in kind. She takes a seat at the table, and Byleth moves and takes a seat across from her. For the first time in the last five years, Edelgard feels not like the Emperor, but like herself.

Byleth pours them both cups of tea, and places a miniature cake on Edelgard’s plate without her having to ask.

Edelgard sips her tea, the warmth from her cup filling her whole body.

“What brought this on?” Edelgard asks at last.

Byleth gestures with her hand, her palm facing the sky. “I missed you.”

“You see me every day,” Edelgard protests. Her silly, traitorous heart flutters at Byleth’s words. 

“I’m aware,” Byleth says. That small, fond smile is still on her face, and Edelgard cannot help but feel pleased at the sight of it. “I suppose I missed the friendship we used to share, back at the academy.”

Edelgard sets her teacup down. “We were never particularly close. I had my ambitions, and you stayed with your Blue Lions much of the time. Any illusions we harbored about our friendship were just that: illusions.”

Byleth makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. “I suppose so. I always wished to be closer to you. Dimitri admired you very much. We talked of you often.”

Edelgard lets out a short, almost bitter laugh. “Suffice it to say that such admiration lies in the past.”

“At the moment, perhaps. But not forever.”

Edelgard cannot imagine a future where she extends a hand to Dimitri and he accepts. As much as it’s something she wants, it seems impossible.

“You’ve been in contact with some of my former students, haven’t you?”

Edelgard nods. “Yes. Sylvain and I have exchanged a few short letters.”

Byleth leans forward and rests her chin on the palm of her hand. “Sylvain… he always was smarter than he let on. He would be a valuable ally to have in all this.”

“I’m well aware,” Edelgard says. “He’s told me some of their current situation, although I’m aware he’s holding some things back. It would be foolish not to.”

“You should write Mercedes as well. She’s apt to be agreeable. Jeritza is her brother, after all.”

“I’ve already asked Sylvain to speak with her,” Edelgard answers, voice cool.

Her Professor doesn’t respond, and the garden is silent except for the clink of their silverware and dishes.

“Why did you attack the monastery?” Byleth asks.

Edelgard is a grown woman. She does not answer to the Professor. She is the Emperor of a kingdom, she is going to reshape the world into a place worth living for everyone, and she is not going to cave in on herself at the first sign of pressure from an outside force. 

“We’re at war,” Edelgard replies. “What else can I do? Even if some of them are willing to compromise, many are not. You know that.”

Byleth sighs. She tips her head back and looks up, towards the sky. “Did you ever believe in the Goddess?”

Edelgard digs her fingernails into her palm. “I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“I didn’t know who the goddess was until I became a professor.” The long line of her throat demands to be looked at, and Edelgard tears her eyes away.

“I worshipped the Goddess growing up, of course.” Edelgard takes a sip of her tea. Bergamont. It really is like their days at the academy. “We all did.”

“We?”

Edelgard touches one of her hands to her buns, checking that they’re still tightly wound and in place. “The Emperor’s family,” she says. She will not spill her secrets like a schoolgirl.

“Of course,” Byleth replies. She lets the silence settle over them like a cloak. 

Edelgard shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She has never been fully at ease in the quiet. There’s a vulnerability to it that she has never made peace with.

“I read your manifesto,” Byleth says at last.

“Did you?” Edelgard injects warmth into her voice without meaning to. It’s been so long since someone’s seemed this genuinely interested. The rest of the Black Eagles care about this cause because they believe in what’s right and they care about her, but it’s not personal for them.

She wonders if it could possibly be personal for the Professor as well.

Byleth nods. “The information it contained was troubling.”

“It’s horrific,” Edelgard says, straightening in her chair. “I don’t know how Rhea and the Church of Seiros have managed to keep the people of Fodlan subjugated for so long, but no more.”

“I do have one question,” Byleth says. “Why didn’t you ever tell anyone at the academy?”

Edelgard adjusts her gloves and takes her time answering. “Why should I have?”

“We could have helped you. Claude and Dimitri are reasonable.”

Edelgard laughs and smooths down the loose strands of her hair. “Can you guarantee that, Professor? Can you promise me that had I extended my hand, they would have been willing to meet me halfway? You and I both know that that train of thought is foolish.”

Byleth sighs and takes a sip of her tea. It occurs to Edelgard that every time she’s taken tea with the Professor her favorite tea is available, but she has no idea what Byleth’s favorite tea is. Perhaps someday she’ll fix that.

“No.” Byleth’s voice is so low that Edelgard almost does not hear her. “You’re right. They wouldn’t have.”

“It is of no matter,” Edelgard says. She finishes her tea and sets her teacup back down on the saucer, her hands coming to rest in her lap. “I’m sure there was a time when I used to believe in the Church, but that is no longer relevant.”

Byleth chews on her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “I see that.” She sighs. “I assume you saw Seteth’s letter to me?”

“Of course.”

“Is he as irredeemable as Rhea?” Byleth asks. “Is Flayn?”

Edelgard’s fingers dig into the skirt of her dress. “I like to think that no one is beyond redemption,” she replies, looking off into the distance. If she listens hard, sometimes she can hear the phantom laughter of her siblings in the distance. “But I know that’s not true.”

“How do you know?” Byleth’s voice cracks when she speaks, and Edelgard’s attention jolts back to her.

“My teacher…” Edelgard trails off, at a loss for words.

Byleth looks down into her lap, her expression even more withdrawn than normal. “Rhea was kind to me, as were Seteth and Flayn.”

“There is no redeeming Rhea,” Edelgard says, a hard edge to her voice.

Byleth raised her head and meets Edelgard’s gaze. “I understand.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard has some revelations about her past, and remembers something she'd long forgotten. Hubert opens up. Byleth reaches out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a doozy, sorry folks. i added the major character death tag but i promise that that doesn't apply to edeleth and that this fic will have a happy ending, there's just like, one death that happens on the way :/ 
> 
> hope you enjoy! next chapter will be happier

“You know,” Byleth’s voice is light, contemplative. It’s far too airy for the fact that they’re at war, but Edelgard can not find it in herself to mind. “Dimitri used to speak of you often.”

“Did he now?” Edelgard breaks a biscuit in half and dips it in her tea.

It’s raining heavily today, so her and the Professor are instead taking their weekly tea inside. It’s become a ritual, as though they’re making up for lost time from the academy. Today, the sound of the rain patters gently against the bay windows in Edelgard’s office, providing a soft backdrop to their conversation.

Byleth’s gaze is fixed on Edelgard’s face, as though she’s looking for something. “He said he knew you when your hair was brown.”

Edelgard is halfway to lifting her teacup to her mouth when Byleth speaks, and the next thing she hears is the sound of porcelain shattering. “I-” Her voice cracks, and the hot tea spreading out over the floor of her office has started seeping into her boots.

“Edelgard?” Byleth is half out of her seat already, and Edelgard shakes her head emphatically.

“How did he know that?” She sounds like a child, knows that her chin is jutting out in the same way that her younger brother’s used to right before he started to cry. “How could he possibly have known that?”

Byleth sits back down slowly in her chair, reaching out across the table and resting her hand lightly on top of Edelgard’s. It’s too much, even though her gloves, and Edelgard flinches away, curling her hand over her heart like a caged bird.

She shakes her head. “I apologize for my outburst. That was unbecoming.” Edelgard carefully, deliberately lowers her hands into her lap.

Byleth withdraws her hand. “He said you knew each other as children.”

Edelgard presses her lips together into a thin line, desperately sorting through memories. There’s something just out of reach, fuzzy like so much of her childhood now is.

“You taught him to dance,” Byleth prompts. There’s no trace of pity or concern on her face, and Edelgard is grateful for it. There’s never any judgement from the Professor, and it makes conversations like these far less painful.

Taught him to dance? What is she talking about?

The memories don’t come flooding back like she had hoped they would. Instead, it’s a slow trickle - Dimitri with shoulder length blonde hair, the feeling of his small hand resting on her back. The press of a knife into her hand. The look on his face when the Flame Emperor mask had been knocked off her face.

A young boy’s voice calling her El.

“We met in the Kingdom.” She places her hands flat on the table so as to prevent them from shaking. “I remember now. We were friends.” The knife he gave her is still her favorite. All these years, she’s had such a fondness for it, and has never managed to understand why. Now she understands, can hear Dimitri’s quiet, too-serious voice for a child telling her that she’ll cut her own path to the future.

It’d been taken when she was brought underground, of course, as all her personal things had. But, after, when she’d finally been permitted to see the sun again, it had been pressed into her hands along with the rest of her belongings. It was a small mercy, she supposes, that she’d been allowed to keep the knife at all.

“You were siblings, weren’t you?” There’s no hesitation to Byleth’s voice - the question is purely for the benefit of her and her faulty memory.

“No.” Edelgard shakes her head. “We were friends, nothing more.” She presses her hands firmer into the wood of the table. She is the Emperor, and she will not show any more weakness than she already has. “Right?”

Byleth frowns, barely there. “Your mother was his step-mother.” Her voice is so soft, so gentle. Sometimes Edelgard wishes people would just yell at her, would stop treating her like she needs to be revered or treated like some sort of idol. There will be no such thinking in her new world.

Edelgard shakes her head again, more emphatically this time. “No. That can’t be right. I would have known.”

“How?”

Edelgard stands abruptly, turning and stalking off to stand at the window. The rain pounds against it, the sound that had seemed so comforting only minutes ago now grating and thudding on the inside of her skull.

Byleth rises and walks across the room to stand next to her. She doesn’t touch her, just offers silent support. It’s enough. It has to be enough.

Edelgard closes her eyes and places hand gently on the window. It’s cold outside, and her hand leaves a mark on the glass when she removes it.

“Dimitri is my brother? Are you certain?” Her voice doesn’t tremble, but it’s quieter than she ever speaks.

“I’m positive. You can have Hubert double check, if you would like.”

Edelgard nods. Dimitri is her brother. She had thought they were all dead but - perhaps there truly is some hope in this world after all. She opens her eyes and turns to look at the Professor.

“My teacher, please, come sit. It’s time I told you about my family.”

-

Ferdinand doesn’t come home from the Bridge of Myrddin. It’s almost the same as that day, months ago, when he’d arrived late and with the professor in tow. Today, though, it’s clear that he’s not returning. A scant few of their soldiers return, and those that do have nothing good to say. Dimitri is a monster, one of them tells her, beyond any hope of reasoning with. That does not change the fact that he is her brother, and that she will do everything in her power to save him. Her siblings did not die in vain, and neither will Dimitri.

Dorothea cries and cries when they get the news. She’s near inconsolable in the face of the news, and none of the rest of them are much better off. For the first time in five years, Hubert misses a war council meeting for the first time in five years, and Edelgard doesn’t bother keeping any semblance of a meeting.

When she finally finds Hubert, he’s in her room, as if he’s been waiting for her. As children, they used to hide under her bed when one of them got upset. They’re too big to fit there now, so he’s instead sitting on the floor next to her bed.

“Hubert?” Her voice is soft, delicate in the way she only lets it be around the Black Eagle Strike Force.

He raises his head to look up at her. “Lady Edelgard. I apologize for-”

“No,” she says firmly. “Don’t you dare. Scoot over.”

A shadow of a smile crosses Hubert’s face, although the circles underneath his eyes look even more pronounced than usual. He moves to the side, and she sweeps her skirts up and sits down inelegantly next to him.

“I assume this is about Ferdinand?”

Hubert nods. “This is unbecoming of your station,” he adds after a moment.

“Hush.” Edelgard smiles at him. “We used to hide underneath the bed, remember? Sitting on the floor is surely more proper than that.”

Hubert’s mouth twists. “I suppose.”

Edelgard’s not sure what it is that’s happened. Hubert wears his grief so differently than she does. Someday, maybe, they’ll be able to take care of each other the way they could as children. “He kissed me,” Hubert says softly. “Before he left.”

Edelgard feels like a girl again, sitting on the floor of her room and gossiping with Hubert while they play hide and seek with her other siblings. Now, though, there is no laughter filling the halls of the Enbarr Palace, only the somber silence that the dead bring.

“I didn’t know.” Edelgard replies, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on top of them.

Hubert tips his head back to stare at her ceiling. “He told me we would talk about what it meant when he returned.”

There are no words. This war has taken many things from them - Edelgard’s family, Hubert’s ability to trust - but it has never taken a lover before.

“I’m sorry.” The words are not enough, but they are all she have. She pulls her gloves off and gently extends a hand to Hubert.

He sighs, dropping his gaze to his lap. His legs are stretched out in front of him, and the line of his back is rigid. “There is nothing that could have been done.” Hubert takes his gloves off though, and places his bare hand in her own.

Hubert’s hands are colder than she’d expected, and there’s a faint mottling of black wrapping up his arm. Lysithea has similar scars on her own hands, although they’re not so pronounced. She laces their fingers together and squeezes his hand, then scoots closer. Hubert stays stiff and unyielding, but he has been her best friend since she was a little girl. She knows what he’s thinking.

“His death will not be in vain,” she says, fiercely. It is the best promise she can give, and Hubert knows that better than anyone.

Edelgard rests her head on Hubert’s shoulder. After a moment, he releases a sigh that’s more of a shudder than anything else, and turns his head into her hair. They stay like that for hours, carving a space away from the war for their own quiet grief.

-

Edelgard is alone before Gronder. She is not often by herself these days, and although at one point she may have revelled in the solitude, instead it only makes her head hurt. Her thoughts are so much louder when she is alone.

“Lady Edelgard?” Byleth’s voice outside of the tent is soft, and Edelgard smiles at the sound of it.

“You can come in,” she calls, not bothering to turn away from her vanity.

Byleth steps up behind her, meeting Edelgard’s gaze in the mirror. Edelgard’s hair had gotten mused on the ride here, and she’s carefully redoing her headdress, her back to Byleth. Hubert is far better at it than her, but it’s soothing, to go through the motions herself.

“Hubert said something curious to me,” Byleth’s voice is as impassive as ever. Someday, Edelgard prays that she’ll be able to understand every ounce of nuance behind it, be able to decode Byleth’s mood from the twitch of her eyebrow or the curl of her mouth.

“Did he now?” Edelgard doesn’t look at Byleth’s expression and keeps carefully tightening the coils of her hair. How does Hubert make it look so easy?

“He said that there is a chance of me dying in every battle we go into, and that I should take care not to die with any regrets.”

“Ah.” Edelgard’s hands still, raised halfway in the air. She sighs and sets them down in her lap, her half-finished headdress forgotten. “He took Ferdinand’s death very hard. We all did.”

“Do you?” Byleth’s voice turns sharp. “Have any regrets?”

Edelgard smiles thinly and resumes her work on her hair. “I can’t afford to have regrets. I simply don’t have that kind of time.”

Byleth touches her shoulder, so gently that it’s barely there. “I do.”

Edelgard’s breath hitches, and she hates herself for such a weakness. “Do you now?” She slides a pin into her hair, holding it neatly in place. Hubert normally does her hair for her, but he’s off meeting a representative from the Blue Lions. Dorothea had offered, but it seemed wrong, for someone other than Hubert to tend to her while he still lived. So instead, she does her hair herself, and lets the silence between her and Byleth hang around her neck like a noose.

“I wish I had spoken to you more in the academy.”

Edelgard sets the rest of her hairpins down, having finally finished her hair. “You don’t wish you had chosen my class instead of Dimitri’s though.”

The weight on her shoulder increases to a consistent pressure. Byleth is not afraid to touch her, and that is its own kind of comfort. She is not so fearsome or monstrous that she’s beyond a gentle touch.

“No,” Byleth’s voice is far away, full of a memory she is not privy to. “Would it have changed anything?”

It would have. Of course it would have. Edelgard would not have felt so alone, maybe, would not have spent as much time obsessing over the Professor’s laugh as it carried across the schoolyard. “I suppose not,” Edelgard replies. “The war would have begun the same no matter what.”

Byleth’s reflection in the mirror nods. Edelgard has not turned around for any of this conversation, has only relied on the mirror as her guide. Byleth’s eyes shine pale green, a glimmer of something that she does not know how to name within them.

“We would not have the same chance at peace,” Byleth says. “I don’t wish ill for any of you.” She sighs. “Perhaps if I had been there, Ferdinand would have lived.”

Edelgard swallows. “I understand my teacher, I do. I feel the same way.”

Byleth withdraws her hand and Edelgard cannot abide it. She stands from her chair and whirls around, wrapping her arms around the Professor and holding her close. There is no hesitation from Byleth; she pulls her close, and Edelgard gives in to temptation and buries her face in her neck.

“The rest of us will live through this war.” Edelgard’s voice is muffled, but the determination in her voice shines through clear as day.

Byleth’s arms around her are warm and secure. It feels like coming home, like the smell of the rose garden in the palace and the sound of children’s laughter deep within it. She doesn’t want it to end, and so she lets herself be selfish and doesn’t pull away. She can feel the warmth from Byleth’s hands seeping into her skin and she could live in this feeling forever, could forget the outside world and stand here, safe and sound and cherished. 

It never feels like this when Hubert hugs her.

There’s a gentle touch to the top of her head, one that, if Edelgard were asked, she would say felt like the press of lips. It’s impossible to know if she imagined it or not, but she lets herself believe that it’s real. She can indulge in one delusion, if only to keep her heart a little lighter.

-

The Battle of Grondor comes and goes, and they all survive it. Sylvain stayed true to his word, as did the rest of the Blue Lions, and Edelgard prays it means that peace is closer at hand then she had previously thought.

Such thoughts are foolish - a cry of pain resonates across the battlefield, echoing around them.

Byleth stills in the middle of packing up her things. “That’s Dimitri.” There’s genuine panic in her eyes, something close to fear in the posture of her body. She drops the bag she’s holding and starts walking, presumably to go to him, but Dorothea grabs her by the wrist.

“Professor.” Dorothea’s voice is mired in sorrow, as it often is these days. “You know you can’t.”

Byleth hunches over, all the drive drawn out of her. “Yes. I know.”

The march back to Enbarr is quiet. There’s no frivolity or liveliness left in any of them, and with every step Edelgard’s heart feels heavier.

-

Her remaining generals are at a war council when they get the news. A scout bursts in, and Edelgard rests a gentle hand on Hubert’s arm so as to save the poor messenger a tongue lashing he won’t soon forget. 

“Lord Rodrigue has been killed, Your Majesty.”

That must have been the cry they heard after the battle. Edelgard sighs. “I see. Do you know how?”

“Fleche, Majesty. It seems she had joined the Empire and tried to kill Dimitri. Lord Rodrigue sacrificed himself to save the King.”

“I see.” Edelgard should be pleased at this news. Her enemy has just lost a commander. But Fleche was just a girl, a young girl who used to laugh with Dorothea and hang off of Caspar’s arms like a jungle gym. She’d always been so sweet to Edelgard, had brought her a crown made of daisies once. “Thank you for the information. You are dismissed.”

The messenger bows and leaves, the eight of them quiet in the wake of the news.

“Poor Dimitri.” Byleth sounds so sad. If only Edelgard had known that Fleche still lived. She could have stopped her, perhaps.

“I know Felix didn’t get along well with his father, but he must be going through a difficult time,” Dorothea’s tone is soft. Edelgard remembers Dorothea storming into her room in the academy once to complain about Felix’s rudeness. They’d been friends, even if both of them were clearly loathe to name it as such.

“The curse of the Fraldarius men…” Bernadetta trails off, clasping her hands together and shaking her head.

Right. Felix had had a brother that died for Dimitri as well. It’s tragic, the way that these things repeat themselves.

“I should have been there.” Byleth whispers. “I should have gone to them after the battle.”

“Sylvain said Dimitri gutted our messenger as soon as he saw the insignia.” Hubert sounds impervious to any of the sentimentality in the room. “There’s no telling what he would have done to you, especially soon so soon after Lord Rodrigue’s death.”

“I suppose.” Byleth sounds hollow.

“We’ll end early today.” Edelgard says, glancing over at Byleth. “We can reconvene tomorrow to discuss our plans for dealing with the Alliance.

The others nod their assent and trickle out of the room, leaving Edelgard alone with Hubert.

“Our dear professor is going to have to decide what side of this war she’s on,” Hubert remarks.

Edelgard follows his gaze to the door that Byleth has just exited out of. “I don’t think she believes that.”

“Do you?”

Edelgard twirls one of the tendrils of her hair thoughtfully, her head cocked to the side. “I used to. I’m beginning to think otherwise.”

“As your friend,” Hubert lowers his voice, “may I speak out of turn?”

“You don’t have to ask for such things,” Edelgard replies. Hubert doesn’t say anything, and she sighs. “Yes, of course.”

“Would you be able to kill her? If these talks of peace went awry and she rejoined the Kingdom to fight for them, could you strike her down?”

Edelgard can imagine it. She can imagine lifting up Amyr and striking Edelgard’s head from her shoulders, can imagine the spray of Byleth’s blood and the hollow feeling it would inspire within her. She could do it.

But she doesn’t want to.

“I could do anything to achieve my goals,” she says. “If I must kill her to carve a path to my new world, I will.”

Hubert’s eyes narrow as he searches her face. Whatever he sees must comfort him, for he nods. “All the same,” he replies, “if we are forced to fight her, let it be me that kills her.”

Edelgard can allow herself this one selfishness, even if it’s for a possibility she does not entirely believe will come to pass. “Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth makes a promise. Edelgard looks for a second opinion, and sends a letter seeking a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end is in sight folks! one more chapter and an epilogue (i think!) i'm honestly really happy with how this chapter turned out; please let me know what you think!
> 
> also, in other news, I'm running an edeleth big bang! If you're an artist or a writer, I'd love if you checked it out [here!](https://twitter.com/BbEdeleth)

Edelgard is not certain when her office stopped being the sort of place that one needs appointments to enter, but Byleth has certainly taken advantage of this new fact. She strolls right in and sits down at her desk, reclining in the chair across from Edelgard and lacing her hands together in her lap.

Edelgard puts down her quill and sets her paperwork aside. “Is everything alright?”

“You have to stop assuming Dimitri will make the first move.” Byleth isn’t looking at Edelgard when she says it.

Edelgard raises a hand, then lowers it before she forgets herself. “I never expected him to.” She picks a non-existent piece of lint off her shoulder. “I was the one that had Dorothea write Sylvain during the war.”

Byleth nods. She still isn’t looking at her. Sometimes, when there’s no expression at all on her dear general’s face, Edelgard wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she snaps and does something. The impulse to do so rises up in her now, but Edelgard sets it aside. It’s not a productive feeling.

“I will kill Dimitri if I must.” Edelgard says. “You know that.”

“Yes.” Byleth doesn’t wait before responding, but she sounds so damned sad. Would she feel the same way if it was Edelgard being struck down? “I am well aware.”

Edelgard stands from her seat at her desk, walking around it with careful steps. “Byleth? Are you quite alright?”

Byleth looks up from the chair she’s seated on. “Yes. Just sentimental.”

Sentiment has never gotten Edelgard very far in life. Sentiment is a disease that drags her down and drowns her, leaving her powerless to make any sort of change.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Lord Rodrigue well.” Edelgard leans on the edge of her desk, perching delicately to the right of Byleth.

Byleth taps a fingernail three times on the arm of her chair. “I didn’t.”

Edelgard nods slowly, smoothing a wrinkle out of her skirt. “I see.” She does not see. They’re in war - why is Byleth torn up over a man she barely knew?

“Felix and his father weren’t close.” Byleth looks up then, meeting Edelgard’s gaze. As usual, it’s hard to decipher what she’s thinking. “Lord Rodrigue loved Dimitri like another child. He told me once that he was glad Felix had me around, as he didn’t understand his own son half as well as me.” Her jaw works. “That is no longer true.”

Some of Edelgard’s confusion abates as she listens to Byleth speak. “I see. You could write Felix?”

Byleth shakes her head. “You don’t know Felix very well. My words would mean nothing to him. He only cares for actions.” Byleth sighs heavily and stands. She walks back and forth in front of Edelgard’s desk, her hands clasped behind her back. “You could write to him. Dimitri, I mean.”

Edelgard pushes herself off the desk and stands upright. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to write to him? No matter what Dimitri and I are to each other, and what I would like us to be in the future, he certainly trusts you more right now.”

“No.” Byleth says emphatically. “Were I to reach out to Dimitri, it would be nothing but a gesture of kindness. From you, it’s a symbol of your dedication to peace.”

Edelgard sighs. “I suppose I could offer my condolences for his loss.” It’s the kind of thing she should have thought of, independently of Byleth. She’s already mentally drafting a letter when she notices Byleth, standing in the middle of the room with her back to Edelgard. Her shoulders are slightly hunched over, and she’s completely still.

She walks over to Byleth, stopping just behind her. Her hair is down today, spilling loose over her shoulders like silk. She knows it makes her look younger and more delicate, but she loves the feel of it when she moves her head, loves the way that it envelops her like a cloak. “You still haven’t formally sworn your allegiance to the Empire.”

“Haven’t I?” Byleth asks, turning, finally, to look at Edelgard. “I’m still here.”

She’s being pedantic, she knows, but Hubert is her best friend for a reason. Edelgard is much shorter than Byleth, but she still draws herself upright, using every centimeter of height to her advantage. “No. You haven’t.”

Byleth tips her head to the side. “Very well.” Byleth moves like liquid on the battlefield, every action smooth and deliberate. There is an uncommon amount of majesty, then, in watching her sink down onto one knee in front of Edelgard.

Her head is bowed, and Edelgard is thankful that the other woman can’t see the expression on her face. Edelgard reaches down to rest a hand on her head, barely there at all. “Do you, Byleth Eisner, swear your allegiance to the Adrestian Empire?”

“Yes.” Byleth replies without a moment’s hesitation. “And to you, Lady Edelgard.”

A heady rush of satisfaction at the words goes through Edelgard, and she keeps her hand where it is for a moment longer than strictly necessary. “Thank you.” She says at last, stepping back and letting her hand fall to her side.

Byleth stands and bows. Edelgard swallows, a thudding in her head betraying her troublesome, naive heart.

“I should go.” Edelgard tosses her hair cleanly over her shoulder. “I have other business to attend to.”

“This is your office.” Byleth says, a warm amusement in her voice.

Edelgard whirls around, perhaps a bit quicker than necessary, in an attempt to hide the warmth in her cheeks. “I’m well aware. But I have a meeting elsewhere. I’ll speak with you later.”

“Of course.” There’s an uncertain edge to Byleth’s voice, one that Edelgard desperately wishes she knew how to interpret. “Until tomorrow, then.”

“Until tomorrow,” Edelgard repeats. She walks away, the click of her heels echoing as she leaves Byleth standing alone in her office.

-

Hubert may be her best friend, but for matters of the heart, there has never been and will never be anyone better than Dorothea. Edelgard leaves her own office to avoid speaking with Byleth further and rushes down the hall to Dorothea’s room, knocking on the door and praying that her friend is in.

Dorothea opens the door with an annoyed look that quickly fades when she realizes who has come calling. “Edie! To what do I owe the honor?” Dorothea looks gorgeous, wearing a low cut deep green gown.

Edelgard rushes inside and closes the door, flattening herself against it and looking up at Dorothea with wide eyes. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Edie, darling, what’s wrong?” Dorothea reaches out to touch a gentle hand to her upper arm. “You look positively terrified.”

Edelgard purses her lips. “I am not,” she says firmly, setting her jaw. “Terrified.”

Dorothea blinks at her. “Of course.” She takes Edelgard by the elbow and leads her across the room over to the small sitting area, guiding her down to the couch.

“I’m not a child.” Edelgard protests, even though she feels settled nonetheless.

Dorothea chuckles, only a hint of melancholy permeating her voice. “No. None of us are children anymore.”

The two of them sit in an uneasy silence as Edelgard struggles to get her thoughts in order. Dorothea’s room has always been one of her favorites. A long time ago it was one of Edelgard’s sisters rooms, but it’s nice to see it used again. She will not live in a monument to the dead.

There’s a small balcony in this room, and the glass doors to it are open, a gentle breeze wafting in. It carries the smell of flowers and the faint sound of the city, and it relaxes Edelgard more than anything her friend could have said

“Have you ever had romantic feelings at an inconvenient time?”

As embarrassing as this is, there are some benefits to going to Dorothea about this. For one, Dorothea isn’t prone to gossip, meaning that she feels safe to discuss matters of the heart with. And, of course, Dorothea has been so sad lately. Anything that brings her a little joy, as Edelgard is sure this will, is a welcome change.

Instead of the smile that Edelgard expects though, Dorothea’s expression becomes even more somber. She looks down at her lap with a small, sad smile on her face. “Yes. How did you know?” Edelgard opens her mouth and then snaps it shut. She glances around the room superstitiously, as though there is some hidden assailant that might hear them. “I confess that I was talking about myself. Who do you have feelings for?”

Dorothea’s gaze shoots back up to Edelgard’s face. “You have feelings for someone?”

Edelgard bites her bottom lip and nods slowly. “I asked you first.” She feels like a child. This is ridiculous. She should just leave.

“I never stopped writing to Ingrid.” Dorothea admits quietly. The confession hangs between them, something Edelgard has long suspected but never been able to bring herself to ask directly.

“I see.”

Dorothe presses her lips together into a thin line. Her dark red lipstick smears. “She’s started writing back recently. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“For you or for the peace efforts?” Edelgard says, then shakes her head. “I apologize. That was harsh.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” Dorothea sounds so sad, and Edelgard’s heart aches for her.

“You were close at the academy, were you not?”

Dorothea nods. “Very. She was one of my closest friends in the world, for a time.” There’s clearly more to that story, but speaking of it seems to bring Dorothea nothing but sadness.

“I confess I am not very proficient in matters of this sort,” Edelgard says haltingly. “But… if there is anything I can do, please let me know. Even if it’s just to swoon over letters with. You’re my friend.”

“Oh, Edie.” Dorothea smiles then, warm and bright. It’s enough to bring a smile to Edelgard’s own face. “You know just what to say.” She sits up a little straighter in her chair and claps her hands together. “Now, we were talking about your love life, not mine. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Edelgard ducks her head, suddenly afraid to tell Dorothea. “You must promise not to tell another soul.”

“Edie, dear, who do you take me for?” Dorothea leans forward and rests her chin on her hand.

“Of course.” Edelgard takes a deep breath and looks up at her friend. “Byleth and I have become close, as of late. I… would like us to become closer.”

Dorothea makes a delighted noise and presses a hand to her chest. “Edie! You sly dog! With the professor, of all people!”

“It’s not like that.” Edelgard protests, feeling her cheeks heat up under Dorothea’s scrutiny. “Besides, she’s not a professor. Don’t call her that.”

“Aw, Edie, I’m just teasing.” Dorothea leans forward and pats Edelgard on the knee reassuringly. “Regardless, I’m happy for you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you sometimes, like you’re the only person in a room?”

“She does?”

Dorothea laughs. “Yes, all the time. I suppose you’ve been too distracted to notice.”

Edelgard’s smile grows, and she curls her hands into the skirt of her dress. “I… see. Thank you. For the update.”

Dorothea shakes her head, her long hair a curtain around her. “It seems we both may have some chance at happiness after all. Let’s bask in that for now, hmm?”

Edelgard, overcome by a sudden rush of fondness, stands and walks over to Dorothea’s chair. She squeezes her shoulder, feeling only a bit awkward, but Dorothea clearly understands, for she rises and pulls Edelgard into a hug. “Oh, Edie.” She whispers. “You’re going to be just fine.”

-

_Dimitri,_

_To say that I wish you are doing well feels fastidious. It is, however, the truth. Although I am not directly responsible for Lord Rodrigue’s death, I cannot help but feel that it could have been prevented. The same can be said of Ferdinand von Aegir. I beg of you, do not let either of these deaths be in vain. We are on the precipice of a great change, and if we walk forward into the light, there is no telling what change we can accomplish._

_We both desire the same peace, even if our goals may be different. I beg of you, meet me in person on the Tailtean Plains so that we can discuss these things in person. I will bring a small contingent of my closest generals, as well as Byleth. The Imperial army will not accompany me. You may disagree with me at this moment, but I do not doubt that you are an honorable man._

_I will see you on the Tailtean Plains in three days time. There, I hope, we can settle this without more needless death._

_Sincerely,_

_Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg_

-

It has been days since Edelgard wrote Dimitri, and there has been no response yet. It’s understandable. They’re still ostensibly at war, and these things take time. Still, with every hour that passses without an answer, she grows more restless. Byleth has noticed, and as she has less wartime duties than the others, has taken it upon herself to distract Edelgard.

Today, that distraction comes in the form of a long walk through the palace. They’ve been talking about nothing for the better part of the last twenty minutes, and Edelgard has grown tired of it.

She sighs. “Would it be alright if I asked you a rather personal question?”

Byleth gestures for her to continue, and so Edelgard musters her resolve and does so.

“Were you a lonely child?”

Byleth tips her head to the side, considering. “I don’t remember my childhood very well. We traveled a lot.” A small frown crosses her face. “Were you?” Edelgard’s childhood had been a thing of dreams, up until it wasn’t. Golden afternoons spent running around the Imperial Palace, lessons in foreign languages and politics from her oldest siblings and babysitting duties for the younger. She smiles thinly. “No. By the time I learned what it was to be lonely, I was no longer a child.”

Edelgard’s foolish, wandering feet have led her to the ballroom, and she opens the doors with a heavy heart and steps inside. The room is immense, with marble columns lining the sides and a high ceiling covered in windows. As a girl, Edelgard used to sneak in with her brother, Emmerich, who was only a little over a year older than her. They’d lie in the center of the floor and look up at the ceiling on rainy days, watching the storm pelt down on the windows. Hubert had always hated it, but Edelgard suspected it was simply that he disliked being excluded.

Now, as an adult, as an Emperor that should never have been, Edelgard looks at the ballroom and sees only how frivolous it all seems.

“How old were you?” Byleth’s voice always commands a quiet sort of respect, but here, amidst the grandeur of the ballroom, Edelgard can barely hear her. “When you stopped being a child?”

Edelgard touches a hand to one of the marble columns. They stretch all the way to the ceiling, and she feels so small next to them. “My uncle took me to the Empire when I was nine. Dimitri has told you that much.”

Byleth nods, following a few feet behind her.

“It was when we returned home that things took a turn for the worse. There were eleven potential heirs to the Imperial Throne, and yet I am the one who inherited it.” She turns towards Byleth, looking her directly in the eye. “I once had ten siblings, eight older and two younger. They all died, alone and afraid and in the dark.” She curls a hand into a fist, her nails digging sharp into her palms.

Gently, so slowly that it makes Edelgard’s heart ache, Byleth reaches out and uncurls her fist. Edelgard’s lips part slightly as Byleth laces their fingers together, keeping Edelgard’s despair from burning herself up as well.

“There are always going to be lonely children,” Byleth says softly. “You are never going to be able to save them all.”

Edelgard swallows. “I’d like to try.”

Byleth, for the first time in so long, laughs, quiet and only for Edelgard. “You can only do so much. Isn’t it enough to change the world?”

“I can’t let them die in vain.” Edelgard’s voice, normally so strong and determined, sounds small, even to her. 

“They didn’t. They won’t.” Byleth squeezes her hand. “You still live.”

She does, and that is the most precious thing of all. Edelgard lets a small smile overtake her, and she nods. 

Byleth smiles in return, even subtler than usual but no less blinding in its effect on her. “This was a ballroom, wasn’t it? Should we dance?”

There isn’t any music, and Edelgard hasn’t danced since her days at the academy. She laughs, the light sound instantly making the room feel ten times more lively. That’s right: this is a room meant for laughter. She’d almost forgotten. “There isn’t anything to dance to.”

“I’m a terrible dancer.” Byleth says in that soft, reassuring way she has. “Even if there were music, we’d be out of step.”

Laughter bubbles up in Edelgard’s chest again, light and airy like a glass of champagne. “Well then, I suppose there’s no harm.”

In truth, the waltz that Byleth leads Edelgard in is pitiful at best. It’s horribly out of step, and Edelgard, who is long used to counting beats in her head, winces as Byleth speeds up and slows down with seemingly no pattern. Still, though, Byleth’s hand in hers is gentle and warm, and the hand on her waist feels pleasant in a way that no other dance partner ever has.

They stop all too soon for Edelgard’s liking, poised in the middle of the ballroom, with the sun from the overhead windows streaming down onto them. Byleth’s hand has migrated to the small of her back, and Edelgard looks up at her. Dust motes float around them, almost making it feel like they’re in some sort of fairy tale.

Edelgard has never been the kind of girl for fairy tales, but she thinks, just this once, she could be.

When Byleth leans down and covers Edelgard’s lips with her own, it doesn’t feel like a grand, sweeping gesture from one of Dorothea’s opera. It feels like this: the sound of her siblings playing in the yard, Hubert lecturing her in a fond tone, Dimitri’s hand in hers when he’d given her the dagger. It feels like a memory as it happens, and Edelgard closes her eyes and prays she’ll remember every instant of it perfectly, so she can return to it at her leisure.

Byleth’s mouth against hers is soft and warm, and it’s over all too soon. Byleth pulls back, a soft expression on her face. “Was that alright?”

Edelgard laughs again, tightening her hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She shakes her head, her smile so wide her jaw is beginning to ache. “We can try again, to make sure.”

Byleth’s smile widens, obvious enough that even those who did not know her as Edelgard does would be able to see the joy written all over her face. She bends down and kisses Edelgard once more, and all other thoughts vanish from her head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard prepares for her new world. Peace talks happen at the Tailtean Plains, and old friends reconcile over past hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! i can't believe this is the final chapter of this au, i genuinely had so much fun writing it!!! i'll try to have the epilogue up sometime this week, but that shouldn't be super long! i hope you enjoy; this was one of the most self-indulgent things i've written, and it was really lovely to get so much positive feedback on it :))

Amidst Edelgard’s romantic endeavors, though, are more pressing matters. They are to meet with Dimitri on the Tailtean Plains in days, but there is something that needs to be dealt with first.

Edelgard hasn’t spoken to Rhea in some time. Their conversations go nowhere, and she has had no luck trying to convince her to admit to her crimes. It’s not necessary, but it would provide a much needed legitimacy to her claims, and Edelgard is loath to order an execution. Still, it’s looking like she’ll have no choice.

“You wicked thing.” Rhea, once so high and mighty, looks positively small in the prisons of the Enbarr palace. “You’re going to burn for your crimes. I’ll light the fire myself.”

Edelgard touches a hand to one of her false dragon horns. “That’s simply not true. Just sign the confession for your crimes and this can be over. Don’t you want some semblance of peace?”

“Peace! Peace!” Rhea strains against her shackles, her hair a frenzy around her. “How dare you claim to want peace, when your people are the ones who killed my mother! My family!”

For the first time, Edelgard feels something akin to pity for Rhea. She would not want to live forever. It must be very lonely, if this is what it had driven Rhea to. “I didn’t kill your family.” Edelgard shakes her head, her hands clasped behind her back. “And I’m sorry that they are dead, truly. But that leaves no excuse for what you’ve done.”

Edelgard meets Rhea’s eyes. Her siblings wasted away, alone and scared and in the dark. “I’m going to kill you.” No matter what this war has turned her into, she’s at least going to do Rhea the decency of looking her in the eye when she kills her.

Rhea laughs, cold and merciless. The hair on the back of Edelgard’s neck stands up, but her posture does not falter. “Just admit what you did,” Edelgard says again. “If you place the blame for everything on you, Seteth and Flayn will be kept safe. Isn’t that what you want?”

Rhea’s laugh grows until it echoes around the whole room. “What I _want?_ I want you to pay for what you did! I want to rip out your heart with my hands and absolve you of your sins! I want my mother back!”

This is futile. Hubert was right. She should have just had Rhea quietly executed, signed confession proving her right be damned. Edelgard’s shoulders drop. “I see. I’m afraid none of that is going to happen.”

“You betrayed her!” Rhea cries. There’s a snarl on her lips, and Edelgard catches a glimpse of pointed fangs. How did she manage to masquerade as a human for so long? There is nothing mortal about her. “You humans betrayed my mother! You betrayed me! You betrayed everything we stood for!”

Edelgard sighs and reaches up to unwind the dragon horns from her hair. She doesn’t need to resemble such a creature as Rhea any longer. There is no dignity in that. “I never betrayed you.” She drops the mock dragon horns at her feet, just outside the cell Rhea’s been kept in for all these long months. “I never believed in you from the beginning.”

She turns and leaves. For once, the cold of the dungeon doesn’t follow her out of the room, and when she closes the door behind her, it feels final.

-

“Do you want to speak with her?” Edelgard is in her room with Byleth, reading over paperwork on the sofa while the other woman rests her head in Edelgard’s lap. It’s terribly domestic, and with each beat of her heart, it feels more lasting. Perhaps she won’t be alone once the war is over after all.

Byleth’s eyes drift open. “Speak with who?”

Edelgard sets her paperwork off to the side and strokes a gentle hand through her hair. “Rhea. She’s a prisoner here. Surely you must know that.”

Byleth sighs. “I suspected as much. Do you want me to speak with her?”

Edelgard’s mouth twists. What she wants is for Rhea to pay for her crimes, and to admit having any regrets about them at all. “You’re your own person.” She says at last, somewhat reluctantly. “I may be your Emperor, but I do not have any illusions about commanding you.”

Byleth laughs, barely there. “Hubert would disagree.”

Edelgard hums softly under her breath and winds fingers through Byleth’s hair. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

Byleth’s eyes close once more. “I don’t have anything to say to her. My father warned me not to trust her, and so I never have.”

Edelgard cannot imagine thinking of something this complicated so simply, but it seems enough for Byleth. She nods and goes back to her paperwork, although one hand stays in Byleth’s hair, the careful touch more grounding than she had believed it could be.

-

Rhea is executed the next morning. It’s the only execution Edelgard has ordered during the length of this war, and she feels sick afterwards. There isn’t dignity in this, and as much as she detests Rhea, someone like her deserved to die in battle.

Her future will be worth all this suffering. It has to be.

She locks herself in her quarters after, taking as long as she has time to gather her thoughts. Dorothea knocks at her door, but she sends her away. She wants to be alone.

Hubert is, of course, above such things. As much as he claims to serve her every wish, he’s infuriatingly stubborn when it comes to her own well-being. He opens the door and strides over to where she sits at her vanity, her hair loose and limp around her shoulders. She’s traded her Imperial regalia for a simple red dress that belonged to her eldest sister a lifetime ago.

“Lady Edelgard.”

“I wish to be alone,” she says. She doesn’t turn around.

Hubert laughs. He laughs so easy these days, although he still always manages to sound sinister. Byleth’s return has done them both good. Selfishly, Edelgard is glad that Ferdinand was the only one of her friends to lose his life. She doesn’t know that she would have been able to go on without Hubert.

“You are never alone.” Hubert replies, coming up behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder.

Edelgard sighs. “Yes, I’m well aware.” She takes it back. Hubert is infuriating. She absolutely could go on without him. “How are you feeling?”

“A death is a death,” he says tonelessly. “We both knew Rhea needed to die. I’m surprised by your sentimentality.”

Edelgard traces the edge of her desk with her forefinger. “It’s not sentimentality. I have no regrets about Rhea’s death.”

“And yet?”

Edelgard sighs. “If the peace talks with Dimitri go poorly, I do not wish to die like that. If something should go terribly wrong and we lose this war…” She places her hand on top of Hubert’s. “I would rather die than be held prisoner again. If we lose the war and he doesn’t kill me on the battlefield…” She curls her hand into a fist. “Do not let me die as Rhea did.”

“Of course.” Hubert squeezes her shoulder. “If it comes down to it, I’d kill you myself.”

Edelgard stands, then turns and hugs him. It’s been so long since they’ve touched each other like this, not since before she was taken to the Kingdom. He feels like a wall against her, but after a long moment, his arms come slowly around her, resting on the small of her back. It’s careful, and unpracticed, but it’s something.

Hubert pulls away all too soon, but he smiles thinly down at her, and that’s enough. He has always been enough. “Byleth wanted to speak with you. She’s waiting outside.”

Edelgard tries (and fails) to suppress the blush on her cheeks. “I suppose you can send her in.”

Hubert leaves in a swirl of his cloak, and Byleth slips in behind him, shutting the door with a soft click. 

It’s like something from a dream: Byleth, here to see her, looking as she did a lifetime ago. Her hair is dark blue, and her eyes are once again the familiar shade of navy that Edelgard had long since grown accustomed to. She has never fully adapted to seeing Byleth with hair akin to Rhea’s, and now she doesn’t have to.

She rushes across the room, bringing a hand up to rest on Byleth’s cheek. “How?”

“I collapsed when Rhea died.” Byleth takes Edelgard’s hand and gently guides it to her chest. “Look.”

Carefully, Byleth rests Edelgard’s hand right above where her heart should be. She can hear her heartbeat, strong and clear, even through the heavy material of her shirt. “I… I thought you didn’t have a heartbeat.”

Byleth smiles. “I didn’t. And yet.”

It seems it is a day full of wonders. “And yet.” She laughs, and throws her arms around Byleth’s neck. When they kiss, Edelgard can taste the smile on her love’s mouth.

-

It would be wise to leave one of her generals behind, but Edelgard cannot imagine Dimitri launching any sort of surprise attack. It’s not like him. Besides, they deserve to see what may be the end of the war nearly as much as she does. They’ve certainly sacrificed plenty.

The ride to the Tailtean Plains isn’t lighthearted, per se, but it’s approaching something akin to excitement. Apprehension, perhaps. Regardless, Edelgard is pleased to see a smile on their faces again, especially Dorothea and Linhardt’s. It’s been so long since either of them have truly looked happy. This isn’t quite there, but it’s closer than they’ve been in a long time.

They arrive to a barren field, and Edelgard thinks that it would be a good place to kill a legend. She isn’t here for that today, but still, the thought seeps into the back of her mind. What will be left of her when this war is finally over?

She meets Dimitri in the center of the battlefield, with her classmates behind her.

“Dimitri.” He has not come to speak with her alone, of course. The former Blue Lions class is behind him, and Dedue and Sylvain stand at his sides. Sylvain catches her eye and winks, and she looks away, but she’s not able to conceal the hint of a smile he pulls from her.

“Edelgard.” Dimitri is immensely tall. She’d forgotten how imposing he could be. In her mind he’s so much smaller. Still, he’s left Areadbhar behind, and that alone is a sign of goodwill worth celebrating. He sighs. “Professor.”

On Edelgard’s right, Byleth inclines her head. “Dimitri. I’ve missed you.”

The King of Faerghus does not smile. “Have you?”

Byleth nods once, decisively. “Yes. We will speak later. Alone.” Her gaze softens as she looks upon Dedue and Sylvain. “I want to speak with all of you.”

Dedue smiles fleetingly at the Professor. It’s the first time Edelgard can remember seeing him smile, and it looks so earnest and heartfelt that she can’t help but hope for the best.

“I’m sure,” Edelgard says. “We can speak of peace and then confer with our generals. Talks can conclude after.”

She gathers her resolve. “This war has taken so much from us.” There aren’t words to express everything she’s lost. “We were friends once, Dimitri. A long time ago. We could be friends again.”

“I don’t know how I can be expected to forgive your crimes.” Dimitri’s voice is a rumble, low in his chest.

“All of my family is dead.” Edelgard tries to keep some of the venom out of her voice. “My siblings died terrible, lonely deaths.” She meets Dimitri’s gaze, tilting her chin up slightly. “All but one.”

“You knew?” Dimitri’s voice is so, so quiet. She can barely even hear him over the blood rushing in her ears.

Edelgard nods. “Byleth told me.”

Dimitri lets out a shuddering breath. “El, I can’t hand you the throne. Your future lies steeped in blood. I cannot abide such things.”

Edelgard’s mouth twists. “I feared you would say such things.”

Sylvain takes a step backwards. “I think this is… rather personal. We can have a full talk later, perhaps?”

“Of course,” Dimitri says. “If that is amenable to you, Edelgard?”

“I suppose so,” Edelgard replies.

The others leave, and only Edelgard, Byleth, Hubert, Dedue, and Dimitri remain. Edelgard touches a hand to her waist, where her only weapon lies. She has her magic, of course, but it felt wrong to bring an axe to peace talks. Dimitri’s dagger though, is certainly acceptable.

“We were close once,” Edelgard says. “We were like family. We could be so again.”

“My family is dead.” Dimitri’s voice is rough. There is nothing in it of the boy she once knew.

Edelgard feels a flare of anger within her, and tries desperately to suppress it. Such a hope is futile though: she can do nothing to hide the rage that burns through her. “So is mine,” she snaps. “My siblings died alone and afraid, and I had to watch it happen. We both went through terrible things.”

Dimitri frowns, his single eye glinting at her. Was Cornelia the one that took it? Or Thales himself? She wishes, not for the first time, that she had more power over Those Who Slither in the Dark, or any hope of knowing what exactly had been carried out in her name.

“I… am sorry,” Dimitri says at last, sounding something like the king he purports to be. “You did not kill my father, or Glenn, and yet I have blamed you for it for most of these past five years.”

Hubert takes a half step closer to her, and Edelgard reaches out to rest a hand on his elbow. It’s sweet, how he worries. “And yet you still continue to resist the future.”

“So many have perished in your revolt,” Dimitri protests. “Is there not a better way? You are deaf to the screams of this war’s victims.”

“You both are.” Byleth interjects, a small frown on her face. It’s slight, the expression barely there, but it’s enough to quiet them both. “You are both victims in this war, are you not?”

Edelgard’s mouth twists. “I… suppose.”

Byleth turns to face her more directly. “There is no hope of peace without honesty.”

Hubert’s spine stiffens, imperceptible to those that do not know him as she does. “That’s a difficult thing to ask.”

-

There is one high point in their talks, and that’s seeing friends long forgotten. As soon as Edelgard returns and says that they’re to eat dinner with Dimitri and his generals, Dorothea is off. She springs to her feet and races across the battlefield, meeting Ingrid halfway in the middle.

Edelgard is too far to hear what they say, and such words aren’t for her ears. Still, she can see Ingrid pick Dorothea up and spin her around, then set her none too gently back down. Dorothea is laughing, sounding so much like the girl Edelgard met five years ago that it makes her heart ache.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Edelgard tears her gaze away from the two of them. Sylvain stands at her side, looking weathered by the war but much the same.

She nods. “It’s good to see Dorothea happy.”

“Same with Ingrid. I worry about her.”

Edelgard is silent for a long moment. Dorothea’s smile is visible from here, and Ingrid reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you need something?”

Sylvain laughs. “Don’t we all? That’s what we’re doing here, after all.”

She should have brought Aymr with her. Her hand itches for the weight of it in her hands. It’s become more and more of a comfort during the war. She’s contemplated sleeping with it, but she thinks that Hubert wouldn’t allow it. A shame. “Yes, but I have a king to meet with about that, not you.”

Sylvain clutches a hand to his chest. “Ouch! You were much nicer to me back at the academy.”

Edelgard tosses her hair over her shoulder. It’s gotten so long, and since she’s stopped wearing it in her headdress it’s become almost a nuisance. Maybe she’ll cut it, after this is all over. It’d be the first time in her life that she hasn’t had hair down to her mid-back. “I was never that nice to you. You were a means to an end.”

Sylvain throws his head back and laughs. “You mean you weren’t secretly madly in love with me? You wound me.”

Edelgard bites the inside of her cheek to suppress a laugh. “No, Sylvain, I was never in love with you.” She combs a hand through her hair. “I’ve been thinking about cutting my hair short. Do you think it would suit me?”

“Anything would suit you.” Sylvain’s flattery is obvious, but endearing nonetheless. “Cut the small talk, though. What do you want?”

“I want what all of us want. Peace.”

“You know the talks won’t be enough,” Sylvain warns. “Dimitri may sound better, but he’s still the same man. He wants revenge.”

It’s funny. In the academy, Edelgard never thought Dimitri was as driven by revenge as she. Clearly, she was wrong. “As do I.” An idea is starting to take shape, one she’ll have to speak with Dimitri and Hubert privately about. She sighs. “Sylvain, I have very little reason to think you’d keep this secret, or answer this truthfully, but do you think Dimitri wants to be king?”

Sylvain takes a long time to respond. “I don’t think he’ll give you Faerghus, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A faint smile crosses her lips. “Would he consider a temporary abdication?”

He glances over at her. “What are you thinking?”

Edelgard smiles slyly. “I have an idea. Don’t worry about it.” She pats Sylvain on the arm and walks away, to go over details with Hubert. He’s not going to like it, but it’s better than the circular discussion they’ve been having so far.

-

“I have an idea.” Edelgard says, placing her hands on the table. “I’m not positive you’ll like it, but I think it’s more productive than what we’ve been dancing around.”

Byleth had liked it. Byleth had seemed sure that Dimitri would at the very least consider it, which is truly all she can ask. Edelgard takes a deep breath. “As soon as I can, I plan to abdicate the throne. I have no more right to rule than any other citizen, and as soon as things are in better shape, I’d like to give my seat to someone better suited.”

Dimitri frowns. “You can’t ask me to do the same.”

He isn’t well. Sylvain had said it. Byleth had said it. It’s the truth. “No.” Edelgard agrees. “I’m asking rather the opposite, I think.” She takes a sip of her water, steeling herself. “I would like you to come to Enbarr while I work to reform our political system. I cannot ask you to model Faerghus in the exact same way, but I do ask that you consider some of my ideas. In the meantime, Dedue can rule Faerghus as Lord Regent, repairing foreign relations and working closely with the people. As much as we would both like to strengthen relations with Duscur, I’m afraid that neither of us are anywhere near as well suited as him.”

No one has interrupted her yet, and if she’s lucky that may even be a good sign. She winds a hand into her skirts, underneath the table where no one can see it. “When I step down from the Imperial throne, I ask that Dedue do the same for Faerghus. Then, Dimitri will assume his mantle as king, and will already have a close working relationship with the Empire. In the meantime, Dimitri can also be part of the efforts to destroy Those Who Slither in the Dark.”

She meets Dimitri’s gaze. “I would also appreciate the chance to get to spend time with my only remaining family.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence after she finishes speaking, and then Dimitri stands with a jolt. He bumps the table as he does so, and her glass of water trembles, dangerously close to tipping over. “I need to discuss this privately.” He says, voice stilted.

Edelgard nods. “Of course.”

He leaves with Dedue, and Edelgard releases a breath. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Hubert’s lip curls. “We have more forces than them. It would be foolish of him not to take it.”

“He may not want to leave Faerghus,” Byleth says. “I should… go check on him.”

Edelgard shakes her head. “Give him a moment. I don’t want him to think I’m sending you to pressure him into a decision.”

“Of course.” Byleth looks longingly towards the entrance to the tent though, and Edelgard feels a pang of regret for involving her so deeply in this.

She takes Byleth’s hand and laces their fingers together. Byleth glances over and smiles, and Edelgard smiles back. It’s easy, with Byleth. It’s a nice change of pace. Nothing has been easy for Edelgard in a long time.

-

Edelgard is expecting Dimitri to take a long time to mull it over, but he sends Ingrid over with a message far quicker than she’d expected.

Ingrid’s eyes skitter away from Edelgard’s, landing instead on Dorothea’s. Dorothea smiles tentatively at her, and Ingrid nods. “King Dimitri wanted to know if you’d be willing to have dinner with us.”

Edelgard frowns. “Oh. Yes. Of course. We can meet in the middle of the two camps.” A shallow river divides their two camps, and a grassy knoll overlooks one of the bends in the river. It’s as good a spot to have a picnic as any.

Ingrid nods. “I’ll bring King Dimitri your answer at once.”

Edelgard cuts her eyes over to Dorothea. “You should bring one of our generals with you. To prove our good will.”

Dorothea bites back a small smile and stands. “I could go with you. To discuss dinner plans.”

Ingrid’s face reddens. “That would be amicable.”

“I can come with you,” Byleth says. “I’ve been wanting to speak with the King privately.”

Ingrid nods, although she hasn’t looked away from Dorothea once. The three of them leave, and Edelgard watches as Dorothea steps close to Ingrid and takes her hand.

Hubert looks over at her. “Are you happy now?”

Edelgard curls a strand of her hair around a finger. “It’s a start.”

-

There is no bloodshed on the Tailtean Plains. Instead, Edelgard lays aside her axe and watches Dorothea flirt with Ingrid. Dimitri speaks with Byleth, a soft smile on both of their faces, and Caspar gestures enthusiastically as he regales Ashe with tales of the Enbarr palace. Annette scolds Linhardt about something completely unintelligible, and Petra and Dedue speak in quiet tones to each other. Dorothea lays with her head in Ingrid’s lap, the one goblet of wine she’d had already going to her head. Bernadetta hangs at the edge of the group, but Sylvain sits with her, his head bent close in conversation. Felix and Hubert are both sullenly off to the side, their arms crossed in almost mirror images of each other. 

It’s idyllic. It doesn’t seem as though it will last, but it’s wonderful, for the moment.

Dimitri looks up and catches her eye from across their meager excuse for a field. He smiles, and it’s the same smile that she remembers. Most of her time in the Kingdom is gone, but she remembers Dimitri’s smile, and the feel of a dagger being pressed into her hand.

He stands and walks over to her, offering a hand. “Walk with me?”

Edelgard lets Dimitri help her to her feet. “Of course.”

They walk alongside the riverbank, Dimitri the closest to the water. There’s no way he could know of her distaste for the water, but still, it comforts her. Above them, storm clouds gather. She prays it isn’t a bad sign.

“Well? Have you reached a decision?”

Dimitri’s steps do not falter, and Edelgard keeps pace with him easily. “What of Rhea? I noticed you took care not to mention her.”

“She’s dead.” Edelgard takes care to keep her voice level. “An unfortunate casualty of the war. I understand Seteth and Flayn are still with you at the monastery. You must understand that I can’t have them be any part of this. They’re not to be trusted.”

“Yes.” Dimitri sounds so tired. Has he always sounded like this? “I’m well aware.” He’s very generously chosen not to delve into Rhea’s death in more detail. That will come later, she’s sure.

“I can’t imagine Seteth would want to stay.” Edelgard says, a small frown on her face. “If he’s smart, he’ll take Flayn and leave.”

Dimitri sighs. “Yes. I suppose that’s true. It’s a shame; Flayn and I had grown close. But you’re right, it’s for the best.”

Edelgard had always rather liked Flayn, if she’s being honest. She was a nice girl. Part of her was glad she wouldn’t have to kill her after all. Anything for her future, but Flayn used to bring her flowers when she was a part of the Black Eagles class. Carnations, her favorite. She was a sweet girl, and now she wouldn’t have to be a dead girl. “You still haven’t given me an answer.”

Dimitri chuckles. “No, I haven’t.” He stops, looking out at the river. In the distance, a soft rumble of thunder can be heard. He turns towards her. “How will people stand without the goddess to guide them? You overestimate people, I think.”

“And you underestimate them,” Edelgard retorts, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. “People are stronger than you believe, Dimitri. They’ll adapt. It will take time, of course, but they’ll learn to stand on their own, without relying on the Goddess.”

Dimitri meets her gaze. “You really believe that, don’t you?” He shakes his head. “And you said our first order of business would be hunting down those who caused the Tragedy of Duscur?”

She nods. “Yes. Hubert will be in charge of those efforts, but I imagine you working closely with him. He’ll get used to it.” Poor Hubert. He won’t know what to do with all of Dimitri’s blind compassion. It’ll be fine; they’ll all have some adapting to do, in this new world.

“El?” Dimitri’s voice softens. “Are you sure that it’s worth it? This brave new world of yours?”

“Yes.” Edelgard manages to keep her composure, even though every part of her is screaming to grab Dimitri by the shoulders and shake him until he understands. “It is.”

He smiles. “Very well then.” Dimitri extends a hand to her, and she takes it, the beginnings of a smile on her face. “There is more we need to discuss, but… we can walk into this new world together.”


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the end of the war, Edelgard turns the title of Emperor over to another. Dimitri prepares to take his place as King of Faerghus once more, and Byleth reminds Edelgard of the important things in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh it's done! this fic was SO self-indulgent and i had so much fun with it. it was very much something for me, and i am definitely not going to post two multi-chapter fics simultaneously ever again. you win some you learn some i guess! regardless, i had a great time writing this, and i really really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> thanks so much for reading :)

Five years to the day after the war ends, Edelgard steps down from the Imperial Throne. It’s bittersweet, placing the crown that has so long ruled her life onto another’s head. It feels good, freeing. The change she has made is quantifiable, and the reign of the von Hresvelg family has ended.

Adrestia is free, and so is Fodlan.

Still, some things don’t change. Hubert still calls her Lady Edelgard, although it’s with a teasing lilt in his voice and a fond expression. He’s softened since their days as children, but he’s always going to be her retainer, no matter how she tries.

“El?” Dimitri’s voice is soft, but cuts through her thoughts nonetheless. They’re good at that, at making sure that the other is present in the moment.

Dimitri’s demons are not hers, but she understands in a way that the others often don’t. She still occasionally hears the phantom screams of her siblings, no matter how many years pass. Dedue still understands Dimitri better than her, but she’s learning, and that’s enough.

She smiles at her brother. “It’s odd, isn’t it? I really am just El now.”

He laughs, full-bodied and joyous. “You’ll never be just El.”

Edelgard shrugs, crossing the room to peer at herself in the mirror and adjust the cuffs of her gown. “I suppose. Are you ready for the trip to Fhirdiad tomorrow?”

“As ready as I can be.” Dimitri walks up to stand at her side, both of them staring into the mirror of her vanity.

He looks good, less skin and bone and more like a man. It had been a miracle Dimitri’s body hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion during the war, and she’s selfishly pleased that she got to watch his recovery firsthand. Edelgard was not an older sister for a very long time, but it’s something that has never left her. 

“You’ll be a good king,” she says firmly. “Dedue has done amazing work in the past few years, and you’ll continue his legacy.”

“I’ll continue your legacy as well,” Dimitri says solemnly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Edelgard glances upwards at him and smiles. “You can reach out to me whenever you need. And you’ll have Dedue. And the rest of your advisors, I know.” She takes a deep breath, suddenly apprehensive. “You’ll do great.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri’s answering smile is faint, but it’s there and that’s what matters.

Edelgard brushes her hair out of her face and nods decisively. “Of course.” Her wedding ring catches the light, and she touches her right hand to the stone, looking fondly at it. “I should go find Byleth. But I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Of course,” Dimitri replies, and strides out of the room. 

These last five years have been good to him. Edelgard had expected to be anxious or fearful when this day came, but instead she feels a deep sense of contentment. Things aren’t perfect, of course, but Adrestia is flourishing, and she trusts the next generation to continue the work she’s started. Dimitri is dedicated to his people, and even if Faerghus remains a monarchy, she knows he’ll safeguard the people, even from future corrupt kings.

It’s odd, to be twenty-nine and feel like she’s accomplished her ambitions. She supposes she’ll just have to find new ones.

Edelgard makes her way through the palace, holding her skirts just above her ankles as she walks. The staff nod at her as she walks, and she smiles at them, stopping to greet a few of the ones she knows better. It’s odd to think about this being someone else’s palace now. She’s been preparing for ages, but now that it’s here, it’s still odd. Her and Byleth will retire to somewhere in the countryside, most likely. Hubert will visit too often and fret over nothing at all, and she’ll learn how to be El, instead of an Emperor.

She nearly runs into Byleth, who’s rounding the corner herself.

Byleth’s arms shoot out to hold her elbows and steady her. Edelgard blushes, smiling up at her. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Byleth blinks once, slowly like a cat.

Edelgard has gotten used to her wife’s idiosyncrasies now. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and steps to the side. “Walk with me?”

“Of course.”

They wind their way through familiar hallways that are no longer hers, until they finally reach the library. It’s always been a room Edelgard was fond of, and as she shuts the door behind them, affection for the space comes rushing back.

“What are you thinking about?” Byleth isn’t loud, but her voice still disrupts the quiet of the room.

“The future.” Edelgard steps close to one of the bookshelves and skims a hand over the spines of the books.

“I see.” Byleth sounds so soft and trusting. Edelgard would follow her anywhere in the whole world, and she knows that same dedication is reflected in her wife. “And what about it? What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Edelgard admits. “All my life, everything has been planned. I’ve always known what I wanted.” She takes Byleth’s hand. “What do you want?”

Byleth laughs. Her hair is longer now, braided in a simple plait that hangs loose over one of her shoulders. “You know me. I’m happy so long as I’m with you.”

Even after all these years, such words still bring a blush to Edelgard’s cheeks. She ducks her head, even as she tightens her grip on Byleth’s hand. “Yes. I suppose that I am, too. Happy with you, I mean.”

Byleth draws her close and presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to her lips. Despite the fact that they’ve been together for years, every time Byleth kisses her it feels like that first time in the ballroom during the war. When they break apart, there’s a small, almost giddy smile on Edelgard’s lips. “My future ambitions don’t matter,” she says, cupping Byleth’s cheek with one of her hands. “All that matters is that I have you by my side.”

“You do,” Byleth says, her dark blue eyes wide. “Always and forever.”

Edelgard leans forward to kiss her wife again. “Always and forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> stan edelgard and come talk to me on twitter @edelgardlesbian or on tumblr at edelgardlesbians!


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